


and we'll fly high as birds, wherever you want to go

by AikaKyomi



Category: Great Pretender (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Because I'm too lazy but also I had a joke agenda to put in, Drinking Games, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, Happens on a random case not explored in canon, Love Confessions, M/M, Why is there always drunk people in my fics damn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26297491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AikaKyomi/pseuds/AikaKyomi
Summary: “Oh yeah, so that’s what you think?” Makoto stood up in front of Laurent, though it was difficult to appear credible when he stood a few inches shorter than him. “You’re always babbling on, judging me off of appearances. You know what, I’ll prove you wrong!”Laurent seemed taken aback, yet he didn’t lose any of his snark. “About what?”“That I can’t drink!”He nodded. “Ah, so you want to partake in a drinking game?Makoto only then realized that this was maybe, probably, a very shitty idea. But he sure as hell was not going to admit it in front of Laurent; he had way too much pride for that. Well, it couldn't be that bad... right?×××××In which boys will be boys, Makoto gets too drunk and perhaps ends up saying a little more than he let on.
Relationships: Edamura Makoto/Laurent Thierry
Comments: 14
Kudos: 282





	and we'll fly high as birds, wherever you want to go

“What do you mean, you’re not having fun?”

Makoto brought up his gaze towards Laurent, who was standing in front of him with a colorful drink in his hands. He could barely hear his words over the obnoxious music and the idiotic screams of drunken party-goers around them. He sighed.

“Look, it’s not on you,” he stated, though he almost had to yell to make himself be heard. “This just isn’t my kind of scene, that’s all.”

To honor the success of their last con, but also to enjoy the sweet sweet dough they've earned from it, Laurent had suggested to the crew a nice celebration at a nearby luxury bar. After all, what is a better thing to do with the bastard’s money than wasting it on ridiculously expensive alcohol? General agreement was met, and soon enough they’d all left for the night. Makoto had followed of course; he didn’t want to be a downer by mentioning he was tired and that he only yearned for the sweet embrace of his bed. He probably would’ve ended up being the butt of jokes, which he generally was anyway. So he hopped in a taxi and let himself be dragged off, only to spend an entire hour and a half sitting on a bench alongside the window with a glass of water. Despite the fact that he usually wasn’t the party type, he could too be laid-back from time to time. But the fatigue was settling in and he didn’t feel like he could enjoy bouncing around like the others did.

After what seemed like the entirety of human history, Laurent seemed to finally remember his existence and approached him. Surprisingly he didn’t look tipsy at all.

The blonde man scoffed at his answer, slowly sipping on his drink. “You’re usually a bit livelier than this though. Anything on your mind?”  
“Sleep.” he was as honest as he could be, and Laurent could not suppress his laugh.  
“I guess that’s understandable. You must be exhausted, after what you’ve been through today.”  
Makoto winced at his words, arching a brow in anger. “Oh yeah, I wonder if I’m tired after almost dying!” his words dripped bitterness. “I also learned how to dislocate someone’s knee today! How was your day?”  
Laurent let out a chuckle, his dubious smirk revealing he was not impressed. “You’re exaggerating. We had it all under control before you decided to butt in.”  
“Well, he had a gun to my face!”

He was still pissed they’d waited at the last moment to intervene. Sure, they were handling what was happening, but he would’ve preferred to receive a warning before starting to punch a mob boss in the face.

Taking another sip, Laurent shrugged as he threw his partner a wink. “You know I’d never let anything happen to you, right?”

Makoto felt his heart skip a beat as he felt his whole face dangerously heating up. No, he was not going to let Laurent flirt with him too, nope. Since it was most likely disingenuous anyway, as that French bastard tended to be an all-around tease, he didn’t want to let himself be manipulated again. He’d already be brought back to conning after Laurent’s slick schemes; no way he’d let him win this one. Even if he did enjoy gazing in those dazzling azure eyes… Wait no, focus!

“Anyway,” Laurent pursued with a grin, “I have to admit you put on an interesting freak show. Where’d you learn to punch like that?”  
Makoto pouted. “I didn’t,” he admitted. “My fist still hurts like hell. Does it always hurt to punch like that?”  
“No. I guess you were just lucky. Or unlucky. Regardless, it was pretty entertaining to watch.”  
“Fuck you.”

Laurent let out another laugh at his retort. “Well, your choice if you want to give me the cold shoulder. I’ll leave you be.” as he rotated his body to leave, he swiftly paused and turned again to Makoto. “You sure you don’t even want a drink?”  
“Well huh-” Makoto lifted his glass “I have water.”  
“Ah yes. Of course. I mean, I guess it must be true that Asian men don’t take alcohol well.”

Oh no. Oh, he was not going to start insulting him like that, after everything that he’d done today. “Excuse me?” he blinked.

Laurent knew what he was doing. His smile was anything but unprovocative. “I mean, I’ve heard that here and there and I wasn’t sure if it was true. But with you here to prove it, mustn't be too far from the truth, can it?”

He’d spent a shitty evening. He’d seen life flash before his eyes because his fucking partner couldn’t for the life of him spend some time explaining the plan beforehand. He punched someone, for fuck’s sake! And now, that bastard wanted to insult him? Screw that! He had no intention this time to let himself be walked upon.

“Oh yeah, so that’s what you think?” Makoto stood up in front of Laurent, though it was difficult to appear credible when he stood a few inches shorter than him. “You’re always babbling on, judging me off of appearances. You know what, I’ll prove you wrong!”  
Laurent seemed taken aback, yet he didn’t lose any of his snark. “About what?”  
“That I can’t drink!”  
He nodded. “Ah, so you want to partake in a drinking game?

Makoto only then realized that this was maybe, probably, a very shitty idea. But he sure as hell was not going to admit it in front of Laurent; he had way too much pride for that. Well, it couldn't be that bad... right?

“Yeah. I’ll show you that you’re not the best at everything,” he affirmed with newfound confidence.  
The blonde man chuckled. “I’m flattered that you think I’m the best at every other thing, though.”  
“You’re not either! Stop misinterpreting everything I say! You-"

But before he could continue arguing further, he felt Laurent’s hand intertwine with his own, and couldn’t even process the shock that he was already dragged towards the bar. For a second, he was unable to hear the ruckus of the drunken crowd, nor did he notice anything when he bumped through it on his way to the counter. He was merely focused on how warm it was, how his fingers were long and soft yet the palm of his hand felt hardened by the years. It’d probably feel really smooth against his face. Wait, why was he spending so much time thinking about this?

Releasing him from his grasp, Laurent went on to have a few words with the bartender, who nodded before grabbing a huge metallic plate behind her. She went on to seize a fistful of shot glasses, displaying them haphazardly on the platter before handing the blonde man a huge bottle full of a brownish liquid. As he gripped it, he turned to Makoto with a pleading look. “Would you be a dear and grab the plate for me?”

He grumbled as he took a step forward, lifting the item before following Laurent again to wherever he was heading this time. He eventually settled in at an empty table, showcasing the bottle he was holding to Makoto as the younger man pulled out a chair facing him. “Rum.” he simply stated. “21 years. I can certify that this wasn’t cheap.” he chuckled. “But hey, we’re celebrating, right? Better get shit-faced to something tasty.”

Makoto gulped. He’d never drank rum in his life. “Yeah, sure.”  
His eyes sharply followed Laurent’s movement as he pulled the bottle open before calmly pouring the alcohol in between the shot glasses. “You know,” he spoke as he finished his business, “you keep surprising me all the time, Edamame.”  
“Stop calling me that!”  
The blonde man lifted his gaze and snorted. “Only if you win.” he briefly paused as he poured the last shot. “And I win, you’ll have to admit that I am indeed the best at everything I do.”  
“Which is false, but sure, I’ll play.”

Laurent nodded as he split the shot glasses in two, before sliding half of them to Makoto. There were about ten of them, nearly full of the amber alcohol. He gazed at them distractingly, doubting himself for a short second. What if it tasted really bad? He definitely wasn’t going to spit it out in front of Laurent. For sure he’d have to stomach it, but at what cost?

As the older man rose up a glass, Makoto imitated him. “Well, may the better win!” he smirked. The clinking noise of shot glasses barely resounded in the surrounding uproar, then Laurent fully downed his glass; he had no choice but to do the same.

Immediately, the liquid started to burn through his throat. There was a sweet sugary taste to it, yet it was quickly replaced by something stronger that almost gave the impression that he had just swallowed paint stripper. It was weird, but not completely awful. It definitely was a lot more powerful than the colorful drinks he sometimes ordered when he didn’t want to feel left out; although, how many more would he be able to take in?

Laurent slammed down his glass on the wooden surface. He appeared barely bothered by the alcohol, but had definitely noticed the grimace on Makoto's face. "What, rum’s too harsh for you?” he snickered. “We can water it down to apple juice if you’d like.”

Makoto stared daggers at him. That bastard thought he was so smart, so tough, huh. Seeing his aura so full of overconfidence made his blood boil to a point. He was never going to let him win so easily; he snagged a second shot glass, and without ever breaking eye contact, emptied the alcohol in his mouth.

Huh, it didn’t feel as bad the second time. It did taste the same distinct unpleasant aroma, yet he felt as if he could get used to that. Although now he was beginning to feel woozy: his head turned, kind of when he used to spin down a grass hill as a kid, and it seemed he had difficulty to remain focused as he started to notice the crowd slowly forming around the table, chanting for the men to drink.

He noticed Laurent gulping down his glass as well, and he pointed a finger at him. “I’m going to beat you,” he stated convincingly, and his partner only smiled.  
“Sure, I’d like to see you try.”

And there goes the third drink. And the fourth, and the fifth. Though he was pretending to be fine, Makoto was starting to feel that something was up. His whole body barely responded to him; his arms and legs moved as if there was a latency delay and he struggled to keep his balance on the chair. He was starting to have a heartache, but he tried his best at brushing it away despite that he almost felt like throwing up. No way he was going to give up the game, not against Laurent. He was tired of feeling naive and inferior to him. Tired of having to prove his worth every now and then because nobody believed in him. He hated that dumb face, that shit-eating annoying grin that he always gave him. But the more he stared at him, trying to fuel his animosity, the more he realized that he wouldn’t mind being close to him either, stroking his nearly perfect blonde locks, wiping that stupid smug off of his face. At this point, he wasn’t even sure if this was the alcohol talking.

He was hearing the encouraging shrieks around him, although it sounded like a blur of indistinct voices. They were egging him on taking another shot, and he gazed at Laurent, who was tracing on the edge of his glass as if he was waiting for Makoto to take the lead. Oh well then, he would make sure not to disappoint. He smirked as he abruptly knocked his chair to the ground, standing up on his wobbly legs, and pierced his rival with all the audaciousness in the world. He heard the cheers rise in volume. “I’m going to win, Laurent!” he shouted. “And there’s nothing your stupidly sexy face can fucking do about it!”

And with the crowd exhilarated, he swallowed his sixth shot. With the rum flowing down his throat, he almost felt like the strongest man in the world, for once. He laughed, probably to himself, yet despite the game still being ongoing he felt like he had won. He stood up to Laurent for once. He was finally going to show him who was the best con man around. Or the best drinker. Regardless.

But he was beginning to lose stability on his legs, his vision was darkening with black spots. Soon enough everything blurry around him; and before he could even process what was happening, Makoto had blacked out on the ground.

×××××

Although Laurent shrugged and smiled under the roar of his victory, he didn’t waste any second before standing up. Pacing around the table, he crouched down next to Makoto before sighing, a sly smirk at the corner of his lips. “Always giving his all until he crashes down, literally.” he didn’t quite know if he was talking to himself or his unconscious friend. “You’re one of a kind, Edamame.”

As he pushed himself back up, starting to feel tipsy himself, he pulled Makoto’s body upon his shoulders and tried to make his way out of the bar without making too much a fuss. He called on a taxi, which came in much quicker than they usually do, and as he slowly lowered the Japanese man on the leather seat, he prayed to everything he knew that his friend wouldn’t be sick in the car. He had absolutely no wish to pay for the cleanup.

He arrived at the hotel, and while he had to deal with the receptionist's confused gaze thanks to an honest smile, he rushed to the room and dropped Makoto off to his bed. Yet for a second after he laid him down, he couldn’t help but gaze at the young man, who despite all their one-sided bickering was still the most interesting person he’d yet to meet. Laurent enjoyed being around others, but he had to admit that Makoto’s presence was special to him, making him feel at ease regardless of anything surrounding them.

He was unable to prolong his train of thoughts as he heard a groggy voice on the bed and noticed Makoto was slowly waking up. “Morning, sleeping beauty.” he grinned down to him, perfectly aware that it was still something like two in the morning.

“Laurent…?” the young man grunted in confusion. “What happened?”  
“I won the bet, that’s what happened.”  
“Oh.”

Makoto smiled, then started laughing out of nowhere. “You sure I didn’t win though?” he pleaded, though each of the words were interrupted by a chuckle. Laurent couldn’t help but do the same, realizing that this man was most definitely still drunk.

“Hey, we’ll have this conversation in the morning,” he smirked, but Makoto didn’t seem to accept no as an answer.  
A heavy sigh escaped his mouth. “Pleaaase…” a pout drew itself on his lips. “Let me have this one.”  
“No way.”

Alongside another groan, Makoto sank his head inside his pillow with what appeared to be deception. His gaze appeared locked to the ceiling for a few seconds before he looked up at Laurent again, who by that point had taken a seat at the edge of the bed.

“Hey Laurent,” the young man inquired as he piqued the blonde’s interest, “what do you think of me?”

The question definitely took him by surprise. He had no idea what to answer, and what Makoto wanted to hear either even though he’d probably remember none of it by morning. Maybe for once, he could allow himself to simply be honest? “Well, I’d say that despite being pretty naive and impulsive, you’re incredibly smart and resourceful. You get along great with the rest of the team, honestly, you’re a great asset to us.” For a split second, he paused, realizing that he could say whatever he wanted anyway. “Also, you’re pretty cute too.”  
“Hey listen there, I’m not only cute, but I’m also terrifying.” Makoto paused, however, despite Laurent’s spontaneous laugh to what he just said. “Wait, you mean all this?”  
“Every word.”

Makoto frowned, seemingly deep in thoughts for what was probably a full minute. Then he spoke again. “You’re cute too,” he admitted, though this time his gaze had gone back to the ceiling.  
Laurent smirked. “Oh, am I now?”  
“Yeah. I never know if I should punch you in the face or kiss you. It pisses me off.”  
“Why not both?”  
“Hah.”

Laurent noticed that Makoto’s eyelids seemed heavy, and he seemingly had trouble staying awake. It probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to let him catch up on some sleep after all this mess.

“Hey, Edamame.” he called out to him, which snagged his attention. “Get some rest, you deserve it.”  
"I don’t wanna sleep.” he spun his body around to rest on his stomach, hiding his face in the pillow.  
“I’ll knock you out if you don’t.”  
“Then come cuddle with me,” Makoto mumbled, his words ushered by the fabric.  
The French man could not suppress a chuckle. “No way. You’re gonna wake up tomorrow and punch me like you did this guy earlier.”  
“Perhaps. But you deserve it.”

A few seconds later, Laurent could hear snoring coming from the bed. He laughed, because it was definitely going to be an absolute blast to tease Makoto Edamura in the morning.

×××××

The morning rays pierced through the crimson curtains, waking him abruptly as the aching in his skull joined with the nausea almost made him throw up. Makoto jolted his eyes open under the acute pain, unintentionally muttering a groan along a few swear words in his mother tongue. What was this all about? He only remembered the bar and his playful feud with Laurent, but everything following that point was absolutely blank. Nothing, nada. How was his mind playing tricks on him like that?

As he forced himself up, achingly feeling the whole weight of his body, he gazed around the room, bathed in a soft daylight glow. And soon enough, he froze entirely as he noticed a silhouette dozing off on the sofa at the edge of the bed. The blonde locks were unmistakable. What the fuck was he doing in his bedroom now?

Without even taking the opportunity to gaze at the man’s peaceful expression (though he DID think about it), Makoto swiftly grabbed a pillow then hurled it at maximum speed through the room, landing right onto Laurent’s face who had no choice but to wake up in a jolt. “What are you doing here?” he shrieked as the blonde man blinked a few times, yawning as he rubbed his eyes. “Get out!”

“Good morning Edamame.” Laurent instead smirked, not moving an inch.  
Makoto threw another pillow, missing this time. “Are you deaf? Out!”  
“I don’t know, I’m waiting to see if you’re gonna call my face sexy again.”  
“You - what?”

Wait wait wait, he didn't say that, did he? He never could’ve said it out loud right? Of course not! Though he did have a whole chunk of events missing from his memory… But this was impossible… right? His head was aching harder than it did before.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Makoto stated firmly, crossing his arms on his chest as he frowned. “You’re trying to mock me.”  
Laurent only smirked at him from afar. “You were blackout drunk yesterday,” he stated, without missing a beat. He could be lying, but… “You told me a lot, that’s all.”

At that point, Makoto was fairly certain that his whole face had taken the tint of a tomato. He buried his head in his hands. This was the absolute worse: not only had he led Laurent on thinking he had feelings for him, for which he wasn’t even sure of himself, but the French man was also probably the worst person in the world to obtain dirt on him. He was never going to hear the end of it, was he? “What else did I say?” he mumbled, though he didn’t really want to know the answer.

“You called me cute, you asked me to cuddle. You also told me you weren’t sure if you wanted to punch me or kiss me. Very exotic, if you ask me.”

Well, he had definitely been thinking that. Fuck. Was the hotel window difficult to break through?

He heard Laurent sigh from far away. He refused to look at him, however. “You meant all this, right Edamame?”  
“Don’t call me - yes, I mean it!” Makoto shouted, though his eyes remained closed in shame. “You can laugh now, okay?”

He indeed did hear a chuckle, but also the creaking of the sofa alongside slow footsteps on the carpet. As he looked up in curiosity, he almost shrieked as he noticed Laurent’s face a few inches away from his face. He did back away on his bed however, his limbs still moving sluggishly.

His smug. That damn smug. “Hey,” Laurent spoke slowly, “y’know that I called you cute too yesterday, right?”  
Makoto blinked a few times in absolute bewilderment. “W-what?”  
“You heard me. I can call you cute again if that’s what you want. You’re catching on my drift, aren’t you?

Damn that flirt to hell, for he was so naturally smooth! How was he admitting to these things without missing a beat? Makoto couldn’t even begin to get a grasp on his feelings correctly, and there he was, that beautiful French bastard, thinking he was miraculously solving every problem. How dare him!

Laurent’s voice extirpated him of his thoughts. “Earth to Edamame, are you still with us?”  
“I-”  
“You did get what I was saying, right?”  
“Yes!” he exclaimed, softly biting his lower lip. “I got it.”  
He nodded. “Then what’s on your mind?”

It was difficult to provide words that’d satisfy him. Try to bluff and he’d see right through him. Be a dick and it might ruin things with him forever. Was there even a good answer to all this? Was this problem solvable at all, when he couldn’t even understand his own heart?

“Look, Laurent, I-” Makoto mumbled softly, his voice barely audible. “I think I like you for real, alright? But I don’t want to be just a fling.” He sighed, turning his head away. “I don’t think I could make it work.”  
The blonde man nodded with a smirk. “Don’t worry, I never play around in a relationship,” he stated, and it didn’t sound like he was joking either.

Makoto threw him a suspicious look, earning a nonchalant shrug, yet took a few seconds to weigh in the words that had just been spoken. Relationship? What? This was not the kind of talk they were having, wasn’t it?

He was completely astounded “You’re not thinking of-”  
“Well, why not? We’ve done crazier things, have we not?

Well, he WAS right, but…

Laurent nodded, his expression reduced to a more serious one. “Of course, if you’re not sure that this is what you want, you can-”  
“I do.” This time, he was going to make the decision for himself. Living a life of crazy, preposterous heists and adrenaline, he could at least retain control on one thing, could he? “That is what I want. But only if you stop making fun of me all the time.”  
“Ah, that I can’t promise,” he smirked.

Yet Makoto wouldn’t retort this time, and instead only smiled. Yeah, this could work. This was going to be weird and incredibly difficult to explain to everyone else, but it could work. Even if it did all tumble down to this because he definitely drank too much. Gosh, what a shit experience that was, even if the consequences turned out not so bad this time around. Never again though.

He brought up his head towards Laurent, who’s smug was hardly hiding the mockery he was about to say. “You should know however that I have won our bet.” he stated.  
“Bet?”  
“Yesterday, the drinking game. You were supposed to admit I’m the best at everything I do, which has been proven by my flawless victory.”  
Frowning, Makoto threw him another pillow that he this time deflected flawlessly. “That’s false and you know it!”  
“But you lost, I won. That’s how bets work.”

He sighed in defeat. Clearly there was no point in arguing with him at this point: he was obviously going to spin around in circles until Makoto would finally give. Might as well save him the hassle, especially since he was still suffering from a headache and would probably dearly welcome a couple hours of additional sleep.

“Laurent Thierry,” he mumbled, his gaze averting his partner’s eyes, “You’re the best at everything you do. There, happy?”  
“Very.”

The blonde man nodded with a grin and approached Makoto once more, only this time he did not back away. The soft pressure against his lips took him by sheer surprise, so much that he remained wide-eyed the entire two seconds for which it lasted. He probably didn’t even kiss back: not that he was aware to realize it. Yet Laurent backed off, smug plastered on his face

“Get some more rest, would you?” he tilted his head as he spoke, getting back up on his legs. “I don’t want to have to announce it to the girls with you still shit-faced over here.”

He was still in way too much shock to reply to anything, so he only watched as Laurent waved him goodbye with a smile, closing the door behind him. He’d only gone back to his senses a few minutes afterward, but at that point, the French man had already left the room for a while. Makoto cursed under his breath.

Damn that bastard. He’d started by stealing his wallet, but now he’d gone and stolen his heart as well. What was he supposed to make of that?

  
  
  



End file.
